Map of Demise
by ArkhamGirl
Summary: 1776. War in the american colonies is in full swing, when Katelyn P. Garnett is sent there by her father, the former Grand Master of the Templar Order, to complete a very special task. Her life undergoes a radical change, as she does everything to accomplish her goal, faces every ever so big obstacle, and thereby leaves behind whole streams of blood...
1. Inauguration

_**Author's Note: Hello there! So this story just didn't let me go since the last time I watched The Patriot, and here it is: The very first chapter of Katelyn Garnett's story! I also posted some kind of preview a few days ago, a snippet of her life as a child, so if you want to check that out as well it's in the AC section (no crossover)**_

_**And now (I'm not sure if that's the right word bit still) ENJOY!**_

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**INAUGURATION**

**1776, late November**

Already from a miles long distance she had seen the mist, which had laid upon the houses of the town like a grey veil, though, standing amidst it was a bit different than expected. She had prepared herself for the urban smell she had been exposed to since her birth and already got used to a long time ago, but instead the acrid scent of gunpowder and, albeit to a minor degree, of death rose through to her nose, most probably coming from one or two of the ships behind her, which ever since the capture of New York City were chock-full of prisoners.

Once again she let her gaze wander over the harbour, before she lifted the fabric of her plain dress a bit to gallantly step from the wooden jetty leading away from the ship that brought her here onto solid ground, which she had missed so incredibly much the last six weeks. Next to the coachman, whose cart her whole luggage and other goods were loaded on, she sat down, glad about him seeming to be a discret man. Normally she appreciated a nice conversation, gaining useful information which she would certainly get from him as a citizen of this town, but after the most onerous journey she had ever had to endure, she was more in the mood of silence.

During the ride she observed the few people on the streets, stomping through the not too high white blanket of snow under their feet with a saturnine look on their faces, and she wondered if this dreariness originated from the late time of year and the therefore accompanying evening darkness, or from the occupation of the british army that was more than clearly visible. Repeatedly, men in red uniforms and with shouldered muskets passed their cart marching, radiated no fatigue at all, unlike the actual citizens of this city, but rather a certain dominance. They did not even seem tense in their upright posture and she knew they had every reason to do so, contrary to the rest of the people here. Only when they arrived at the inn she would spend the night in, she met relaxed civilians as well, which was obviously linked to the copious consumption of alcohol prevailing in this tavern. After exchanging the formalities concerning her reservation with the surprisingly sober landlord, she ordered the coachman to bring her luggage up to her today's chamber, while allowing herself a cup of rum, at least it should have been rum. She couldn't be sure with such a cheap brew, not with all the will in the world. It didn't surprise her that she enjoyed the atmosphere in here, the joyful music-making, the noisy laughing of drunk guests, yes, even the strange accent that was spoken all around her. She liked such unfamiliar situations, saw them as challenges. Nevertheless, this evening it remained only one cup she had soon emptied, whereupon she walked up the staircase to her booked room, where she payed the coachman for his services, closed the door behind him and therefore fully retired from the wild activities downstairs.

For a long moment she leant her forehead against the wooden door, taking a few deep breaths with closed lids.

Alone. She was alone finally.

Six weeks she had had to share quarters with several sailors. Granted, she had been allowed to spend some nights in the captain's cabin, which had been a lot more pleasant, though, she had never had a moment for herself.

She looked around shortly. The small room, furnished with nothing more than a bed, a table and a tiny dresser, was not much more comfortable than her hammock on the brig that brought her across the atlantic ocean, indeed, but absolutely sufficient. Even if luxury was provided to her most of the time, she didn't care much about it.

Comparatively relaxed she strolled over to her cases, of which she dragged the biggest one to the bed she now sat down on, opening the heavy piece of luggage. In contrast to the cases of other women travelling from Britain to the colonies overseas, hers was not crammed full of clothes for various occasions, but instead with diverse pieces of equipment, countless maps, corked up inkwells with fitting quills and pages over pages of yellowed paper, the uppermost of which she took into her hand now, reading every single word on it:

_My highly esteemed daughter,_

_This will be the last letter on my part you will receive before your departure. Although I am on the assumption that you are aware of the importance of our undertaking, I want to lay emphasis on how careful you will need to be during this mission one more time. Everything will be different than it is here. The circumstances you have to complete your task in will be more than unusual due to the colonies' state of emergency. You cannot afford any mistakes there, will not follow your own schemes as you did here, despite several admonitions, in order to do no harm to our actual cause beside your work. I trust you to heed my words, since, I suppose, you are also aware that in this matter failure is no option._

_Inform me about every detail of further proceedings as soon as you became connected with our contact man._

_H.C. Winfield_

Sighing deeply and rubbing her face, she put the letter she had read douzens of times up to now back to the others again, before scrabbling the boxy suitcase, until she found the folded piece of paper her fingers had been searching for. In the candlelight spreading over the table she unfolded it to its full size on, the fine dark lines on it clearly stood out. Like many others in her possession she had drawn this map on her own, however, it was incomplete, since every library she had visited during her journey across half of Europe had had parts of cartographic sketches of New York only, which she had combined to a whole on this big piece of parchment.

She ran her slender fingers over the rough material, searched for her current position based on her own memory of the coach tour. Afterwards the one of the contact man mentioned in the letter and the distance between the two spots to calculate how long it would take to get there tomorrow, although this was totally unnecessary. She would get asked in the moment she showed up there anyway, her father had taken care of that. Though, she had to occupy herself somehow. Arriving at her final destination after such a long time of waiting, had stirred her up inside more than she'd prefer, which was the reason why she fully attended to the drawings in front of her now, blocked out everything, the noises from downstairs, the crackling of the small flame next to her, getting lost in memorising the depicted paths. Though, after almost two hours, not even this occupation, which usually filled her with a certain inner peace, had managed to make her calm down.

She hissed quietly, leant back in the wooden chair, gazing into space. Then she stood up, walked over to the only window of the room and looked out of it. Judging from the position of the moon it muste have been midnight already, but she was not sure of it. She didn't know this country well enough yet.

There a thought struck her. She knew that if she would go to sleep now - and she definitely should to be alert the next day - she would wallow around, awake, for hours, so why not using the time to actually walk through those lanes and streets she had just studied on the paper?

Quickly, she folded the map from the table together, made it even smaller than before and put it into the waistband of her trousers she was wearing beneath the dress. In order for nothing to get purloined during her little trip, she locked her suitcase as well as the door of the room.

The cold november air prickled on her skin, let the blood rush into her cheeks. She clamped her hands under the armpits, so that they could stay warm and wouldn't have any problems taking the map out, partly unfolding it. While following the lines of black ink, she glanced up from time to time, taking in every detail of her environment without difficulty, since she had done that so many times already.

Therefore, she already noticed the two man starting to follow her at their first steps. She ignored the murmurs carried forwards to her by the icy wind drifting past, just kept strolling through the snow-clad streets. When she heard them hastening off to the left, she knew the time had come to pocket the map and decrease her pace, whereby it was easier to stop dead in her tracks, as suddenly the two men stepped out of an alley next to her. Both gave her a filthy grin that exposed yellow and black rows of teeth.

"Hello, hello...", said one of them, who was about half a head shorter than his comrade that, in fact, could have been confused with a wardrobe because of his broad shoulders and angular head. "Why's such a pretty lady taking a walk through our town all alone? And that in the dark..."

The wardrobe let loose a sound that resembled the deep oinking of a pig.

Most women would have been frightened of his appearance and the one of his grubby companion, whose dirty clothes hung on him like tatters. However, she was not frightened. One hand casually placed on her hip, she smiled at the men in an unimpressed way. "Perhaps she wanted to enjoy the nocturnal quiet, but unfortunately there are two gentlemen wrecking all of her hopes. Impolite, isn't it?"

The shorter one let out a cough, which was probably meant to come out as laugh, turning to his taller fellow. "You hear how she talks? She sounds like one of them, one of the redcoats..." With an even bigger grin he looked at her again, slowly stepping towards her. "... like a british lady. Where you're from, doll?"

"Why should I tell a stranger?"

"Well, if you want to, we could get closer to not be strange to you anymore..."

She didn't turn her head with him, as he began to circle around her, having a gawp at each curve of her body. The taller one positioned in front of her.

"I presume this here is not a matter of wanting, anyway."

There the shorter one grabbed her from behind, entwining her body along with her arms, so that she could only move to a limited extent.

Exactly what she had expected.

She flexed her abdominal muscles, let her tucked up legs shoot up and dealt a powerful two-footed kick against the wardrobe's chest, lifting him from his own feet, while she fell to the ground with the shorter man behind her. The collision pressed all air out of his lungs, which she instantly used to squirm free from his grip, straddle him lightning-fast and repeatedly hit the heel of her hand against his nose. Blood splattered as it broke and the man under her snarlingly brandished his limbs, managed to throw her off him. She rolled over the pavement, but quickly got up again in an elegant turn. The shorter one panted with rage, wanted to lunge at her, but his comrade, who had pulled out a knife in the meantime, got there first, stabbed out, though, she simply took a step to the side, blocked the weapon, grabbed his stretched out arm a split second afterwards and bent it, so that the blade aimed at his throat, which she pierced through again and again, putting pressure on his own hand. Even when he went to the ground with widened eyes, gurgling, she continued frenziedly ramming the knife into him, which terrified his companion so much that he ran off into the next alley he could find. For her, though, letting him escape was out of the question, so she turned her bloodstained face into his direction and in a swift movement of her wrist hurled the knife after him. It struck his shoulder with such a force that he fell forward into the snow. Determined, she marched towards him, who fidgeted, panting and desperately trying to remove the foreign object from his back, yanked it out and rolled the man over. He screamed with pain, as she pushed him against one of the house walls to a sitting position thereupon, whereat every attempt of his to shove her away from him was to no avail, since she could grasp his wrists easily, pulled his hands, laid on top of eachother, up and pinned them to the brick wall with the knife. The man cried out, but she ignored him, let her left hand wander down his body, while taking her much sharper dagger out of her boot. Still squirming he pressed the word 'Please' out again and again, as if he could make her stop thereby, as if he could keep her from reaching into his trousers.

"You wanted to rape me, right? Wanted to let your little willy enter a british harbour.", she said with a smile on her lips. "But now your friend is dead, so you, my dear, have to account for two men at the same time. That means we'll just make two of it!" Giggling she took his member out of the holely trousers, pierced its base with the dagger and cut through the whole length, which made an almost inhuman shriek escape his throat. Immediately, she squeezed her hand on his mouth.

"Sh, sh, sh, we don't want anyone to come here and see you guys got beaten by a woman, don't we? That would look ridiculous." Though, he did not stop screaming underneath her hand, tears running down his cheeks. Her expression darkened. She loathed the sight of such a weak creature. "Silence!", she hissed in such a cold tone that he had no choice but to follow her instructions. A few more moments she glared at him, then slowly took her hand from his face and visibly relaxed, since nothing but panting was to hear. With glassy eyes full of fear he watched her wiping the blood off the blade that sparkled in the moonlight.

"I believe the thought already occured to you, but planning to rape me was a stupid, stupid idea."

"Who... Who are you?", he managed to breathe.

Were it not for all the red colour on her skin, her current expression would have looked innocent. "Oh dearie me, where have I lost my manners? I must have left them behind in England at my departure. I must not become as rude as you colonists, not on any terms, no, no, no." She grabbed his neck, forced him to look into her eyes. At the sound of the gloomy spoken words one could literally see the blood freezing in his veins: "My name is Katelyn P. Garnett, daughter of the former Grand Master of the Templar Order I have been a loyal soldier to since the age of eleven, and I want to thank you, yes I really do thank you and your friend for the chance to prove myself that, despite some weeks at sea, I absolutely did not forfeit any of my skills as such."

Already before she could pull the dagger out of his eye she had thrusted it all the way into, she knew that he was dead. Flaccid and covered in blood the man hung there, his hands still affixed to the wall. Katelyn took a look at the knife they were pierced by, considered taking it with her, but decided against it, because it was rusty and ugly. Moreover, she already had enough combat equipment in her cases.

Slowly she raised from her squatting position, eyed the man she had just killed. The streams of blood from his hands, his back, eye and crotch, flowed together beneath him, created a large puddle on a carpet of snow. Deep red colour on dazzingly white ground... simply beautiful. Had it not been for this disgusting, tattered corpse in the middle, it would have yielded a real masterpiece of art.

Katelyn put the dagger back into her boot and stepped out of the alley. She had walked approximately half the way she'd planned to, but yet strolled back were she had come from now. The knowledge to have inaugurated this continent would let her sleep like a log anyway.


	2. Honoris Causa

**HONORIS CAUSA**

The four red uniformed pressed the rifle butt into their shoulders, impatiently waited for the command, and as it came, they cocked their head to the side and pulled the trigger. One struck the straw doll into its chest, another into the shoulder and the other two missed it totally, which made Katelyn chuckle quietly. The men in the courtyard weren't able to hear her through the glass of the window she stood behind, though, she wished they would, so that she could see this wonderfully amusing expression of shame on their faces, which men always put on when she, as a woman, demonstrated how to fight correctly. Of course she knew why those soldiers, and probably the majority of all who made use of muskets, looked away at the crucial moment, however, for her such a behaviour was out of the question. She would never look away because of the sparks and the smoke, reducing the opportunity to shoot her enemy in the head, would never indulge in a moment of inattention, since she would rather be blind than dead.

Only at the sound of footsteps behind her she took her eyes off the reloading british soldiers, just to face another immediately afterwards.

"The general is now ready to receive you, Miss."

At the term of address he used for her Katelyn's lips formed a smirk, which abashed the young man visibly. Guiding her out of the narrow corridor, which she had only had to wait a few moments in since her arrival, to a door, he barely dared to look into her face.

The room she entered now was cluttered with boxes, weapons and various other objects, since it had just been captured together with the rest of Fort Washington, though, as busy as he seemed to study the maps on the desk he was bent over, General William Howe obviously didn't plan on staying here a long time anyway. He glanced up and striaghtened himself then, giving Katelyn a polite smile.

"Mrs. Garnett." Howe walked over to her, bowed slightly, which she responded to with a light nod and a small curtsey. "Please, take a seat."

Actually she would have preferred to stand, but she didn't want to be rude and stay at eye level with her contact man. So, crossing her legs, she made herself comfortable on the chair in front of the wooden table, Howe was sitting behind now.

"How was your journey? I hope not all too troublesome."

"Well, at least I was so fortunate as to arrive after your victory here in New York." She smirked again. "Congratulations by the way, General."

He took in a deep breath through his nose, looking down at the maps in front of him. Based on the almost imperceptible muscle tensions of his body, which Katelyn registered with shrewd eyes, she noticed that this topic made him uncomfortable apparently. "As long as Washington is at large in New Jersey, I will not rest on my laurels, but spend all the time I have to break this rebellion. Therefore, I hope you will forgive me if I get straight to the point."

For a moment she looked at him, lightly grinning, and waved her hand then. "Go ahead, please."

Howe leant forward a bit, interlaced his fingers. "As you certainly can imagine the last months were... tumultous. Some of my informants lost their lives in battle, others got busted and executed by the colonists, still others deserted to the very same. I barely get information about the movements of single troups, let alone of single persons. To cut the matter short:" He straightened his shoulders. "We were thrown off the track of your brother. I haven't got the slightest idea of where he is."

At one blow Katelyn's smile fell. It took a short while until she found her voice again. "What?", she said, her eyes wide with anger that had begun to seethe within her immediately after the shock.

Howe didn't let her expression and looks that could kill disconcert him. "I am sorry for disappointing you so soon after your arrival, Mrs. Garnett.", he assured her in completely calm tone.

"A disappointment, indeed." The bitterness clearly resonated in her voice as she leant back in the stool with her slightly clenched fists put on the armrests. "The Order will not be delighted to hear about your failure..."

Suddenly, a shadow was cast over the face of her opponent. "I fear you are judging your status here to be higher than it really is, Mrs. Garnett." He didn't take the gaze of his dark eyes off of hers even once. "I am not helping you in this special affair because you asked me to, but because your father did. I owe him and the Templar Order, not, however, do I owe you. And should you make such a statement that could be mistaken for a threat directed at a General of the British Army again, I shall have you arrested and dumped in the next ship to England."

The two glared at each other, looking like predators readying themselves for an attack on their prey. Instead, however, the tension was loosened by Katelyn's silent but ringing laughter.

With her arms crossed in front of her chest she adopted a more relaxed stance. "I admire this perseverance of a true General of the British Army." She briefly glanced down at him and continued then: "Alright then. Do you have any suggestion as to how I could find the trace again?"

Howe seemed to be relaxed again as well. "Unfortunately not. What I can do, however, is give you all the information pertaining to your brother that I have been able to gather so far." He got up, walked up to a box filled up with paper scrolls and pulled out a map, which he subsequently spread out on the table in front of Katelyn. Interested, she bent over it, marvelled at the dark lines on it while carefully listening to the General's words. "The last thing I could uncover was that he joined a troop of Continentals here in the south of the city." He pointed at a spot, of which Katelyn observed the vicinity more closely, so as to not have to look back later on. "According to that he could have become a part of Washington's Army, or he was redeployed."

"I can hardly search every single Continental camp.", she said, almost murmuring, fully consumed by the drawings in front of her and mental the search for a way out of her dilemma. "Do the Continentals have a list of all recruits too?"

"As far as I know they do, however, if I were you I would not rely on that. After all, your brother could have provided a false name."

Katelyn sighed. "I have to start somewhere... Who could possibly be in possession of such lists?"

Slowly, Howe let himself sink into his chair, forwning. "I presume Generals and other commanders." When something crossed his mind, he bent over and quickly eyed the map in front of him. "You could..." A cheerful smile crept onto his face and again he looked up at Katelyn. "You could join the cavalry unit of Colonel Harcourt, who is commissioned with gathering intelligence on the movements of General Charles Lee's troops. With the help of a competent templar like you, however, they may achieve even more..."

Katelyn paused for a moment. "General Charles Lee, you said?"

Howe nodded.

Charles Lee... Katelyn knew that name well. It was the name if the Grand Master's second-in-command of the Colonial Rite, the name of the man who would become the leader of the Continental Army as soon as George Washington was eliminated, which General Howe had no clue about, of course. He was no templar, he merely came to their assistance every now and then, since they had helped him attain his current position. He didn't know anything of the Templar's actual plans, their noble goals, their real motives of why they supported the British during this war. For him they were nothing but a group of mysterious fighters, who defended the crown against these recalcitrant colonists. In reality, however, the crown was worthless to Katelyn and her templar brothers, though, the man in front of her wasn't allowed to know of that.

"Good.", she said. "I will bring you Lee."

Again Howe stood up - Katelyn a moment later as well - to get a piece of paper, whereon he put down the corresponding orders in curved letters. "I will arrange that Harcourt's men join you. In the meantime I would ask you to apply your special skills to be of service for the British Army."

"In what way?"

Whilst writing he pointed at the map. "There is a village in the southwest whose inhabitants, as it has been reported to me, have supplied Washington with ammunition and other items during his retreat. I want you to go there and squeeze every ever so little information about the Continentals out of them, which weapons they gave them, if they were able to pick up something of Washington's plans, how the physical as well as the mental wellbeing of his soldiers was, in other words how many casualities and deserters, et cetera, et cetera... As support I will provide a unit of, let's say... 20 men, for you. Do you think you are up to this task?"

Again a grin crept onto Katelyn's lips. "Absolutely."

Howe nodded without looking at her, signed the paper and then called the young soldier from earlier in, handing the letter to him. "Send this to Colonel Hartcourt and round up 20 volunteers for a mission outside the city."

The boy bowed his head, seemed to consider to d that for Katelyn too for a moment, but then quickly went off as he sah her smirk and piercing look, which amused her enormously.

She turned to Howe. "General, I have to raise an objection, though. My unit... I don't think that those men are keen on taking orders from a woman. I believe they would much rather do that, if they could follow someone of rank... Honorary, naturally."

His current expression didn't seem directly deprecating, rather surprised. "Which rank do you have in mind?"

"Hm..." She strolled over to the window, watching the soldiers practise shooting in the courtyard. "How about Captain? Or even better: Major! Major Katelyn Phillis Garnett." Grinning seductively she walked back to the big wooden table, against which she leant now. "Has a ring to it, don't you think, General?"

Unimpressed, Howe raised one brow and continued to write on another piece of paper. "Honoris causa, Lieutenant Garnett, and only until this affair is settled."

Katelyn faked a pout, but couldn't hold back a wide smile.


End file.
